Sympathy From The Devil
by Tinque Abelle
Summary: [ Pepito/Squee slash. ] Pepito and Squee begin their first year of highschool. [ Finished. ]
1. Chapter Uno

                **Sympathy From The Devil**

                By: Tinque Abelle

                Author's Notes: In case you are stupid and did not read the summary, this is a Pepito/Squee story. I love this pairing and find it the only plausible one in all of JtHM slashdom and yet, it is so rare. Bah. I mean, read the Squee! Comics. Am I the only one who sees the connection? Oh well. Just keep an open mind and leave a review is you can. Both comments and _criticism _will be welcomed. _Flames_ are not. I tried my best to keep them in character and yet, participants in a slash fic, sooo … yeah.  It's hard. Be as gentle as you can.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Almighty Thinnest, Jhonen Vasquez. Worshiiip! I did not write this to make money. Frown. 

Chapter One 

Squee trembled lightly, walking down the crowded hallway. All of the surrounding students stared at him, whispering to each other and letting out little gasps. Dropping his view down onto his feet, Squee sadly sighed, knowing very well why he was attracting all of this attention. Today was his very first day of high school and already it was turning out horrible; he had promised himself to have a positive outlook today but he could not help but feel as if this schoolyear was going to rot, just like last year. And the year before that. And the year before _that. _

                "He's been in a mental institution for _how _long?!" 

Squee winced as this whisper caught his ear. Suddenly, he was haunted by awful memories of his experiences back at the Defective Head Meat Institute. Shuddering, he quickened his pace, eventually colliding with another person. "_Squeee_!" he squeaked, "Sorry about tha -- Pepito?"

The opposite boy turned around. He was dressed in black attire,  except for his grayish-lavender striped sleeves, and sported a messy back mohawk. His eyes flung open in surprise, which frightened Squee, as one of them was red and and other was purple. "Squee! Hi!" he greeted in an odd, upbeat voice much unlike the tone he typically used.

Squee squeaked again as he felt Pepito's arms clamping around him in an embrace and quickly glanced around nervously at their audience. "Erm … Pepito …"

"You're in my homeroom this year!" He grabbed Squee's hand, walking down the hallway and pushing away students unfortunate enough to be standing in their way with an unnatural strength that caused them to cause dents in the lockers they crashed into. 

Still being dragged by Pepito down the hallway, he wondered how he even made it to high school. Pepito was always missing school for the past three years of Junior High, supposedly helping his father ( Who happens to be the Devil, by the way. ) with his … work. It was questionable why none of the other students did not suspect him as the child of Satan -- two impish horns were protruding from his forehead, after all! Plus, he also spoke constantly about the  imminent demise of the world and placed mysterious curses on the people who annoyed him. Despite all of this, Squee felt relieved that he had run into him. Pepito was the only one in school who had ever seemed to care about him. 

"Here we are …" Releasing Squee from him grip, Pepito stared triumphantly at the open door before him. On a plaque beside the doorway, it read, "Mr. Slant; World History." He merely scoffed. "World History. All we need to know is that the present that we are so familiar with is just a product of various events conducted by morons of the past who have so willingly paved a path for humanity's impending destruction. MORONS! What does war solve? Why is the crumbling welfare of third world countries neglected? Why do tyrants run the world? Why are people so blind as not to see their downfalls?! Why must they repeat their horrible, chaotic mistakes over and over again?!" He paused. "'Course … it does keep hell running so I shouldn't complain so much." He grinned and looked to Squee, who wore a face of horror. "Shall we?"

Before they could enter their homeroom, a large guy passed by and chortled with utmost obnoxiousness. "Are you guys fags or something? Heh, heh …" 

Squee bit his lip with his eyes widened in astonish, then looked over at Pepito. Instead of melting the guy's skin off of his bones, Pepito just ignored him, but not without strain. His abnormal red and purple eyes quivered with anger and yet he stood perfectly still. As soon as the guy disappeared down where down the hall, he growled with frustration and punched the wall angrily. "Pepito?" Squee stared at him, a little frightened. " Erm … you okay?"

"_Stupid mortals_! No offense, Squee. Aargh! I could've sent him flaming down the hall but … but … AARGH! Fuck!" 

                Confused, the quiet boy just blinked. "Why didn't you--"

                "My father told me not to attract too much attention to myself from now on." He let out an exasperated sigh. "This is going to be hard."

                "But … when have you _ever_ followed rules?" 

                "Well, my father will ground me and take away my new X-Box for a while, you see …"

                "Oh." Squee wished he had a game console. His parents seldom bought him anything. Why, his room was still filled with the same items he had when he was a child! The red shirt he was wearing clutched tightly onto his body, as it was rather old. 

                "You think you can come over after school or something? You could see my new X-Box." 

                "Erm …"

                "Oh, come now. It will be fun." He grinned mischievously.

                "Well, okay …" Squee slowly and smiled uneasily as he caught a disturbing glint in his eyes. 

                During lunch, Squee was settled in the far corner of the cafeteria, completely transfixed upon his notebook, scribbling on the paper feverishly. The petty chattering was deafening but it did not seem to bother him too much. His food remained untouched, but it was probably better this way, as the food consisted of mainly grease and other questionable substances. 

                Disgusted at the large crowd occupying the cafeteria, Pepito wandered around, searching for Squee with a tray of his lunch in his hands. His mohawk and ghastly appearance was a magnet to unwanted attention; he had the overwhelming desire to disintegrate them but refrained and cursed viciously under his breath instead. Finally, he spotted Squee and a smile rolled out onto his face. "Hello, Squee," he said, sitting down beside him. However, the dark-haired boy paid him no need, continuing to write maniacally. It was amazing to see that his hand was still attached to his wrist. "Squee?" Still no answer. "SQUEE!" He poked his shoulder and brought out a loud squeak from the boy, which turned everyone's head towards their direction for a moment. 

                "Pepito, I'm _writing_!"

                "Aww, don't want to see your ol' friend? I am hurt." He mockingly frowned, looming over his shoulder.

                "I've been in _every_ class you've been in so far! How'd we get the same classes anyway …?"

                He smirked. "I may have played some part in that … what are you writing?"

                Squee just looked at him in silence for a moment and then continued writing, with an expression that clearly pronounced his disappointment over Pepito's presence. Sure, he was a friend but he hated it when he was interrupted while in the process of writing. "A story," he eventually answered with a tone of timidity and irritation.

                "Oooh, about what?"

                "Stuffs."

                "Ah, _stuffs_." An awkward pause. "What the fuck _is _this?" He poked his lunch with a fork and shuddered as a small insect scurried off of his plate.

                "I guess it's supposed to be food," Squee answered, still writing.

                "Squee, why don't you like me?" 

                He winced at the sudden change of topic. "What? No, I like you, I guess -- I'm just busy right now. I just came with a story idea and I want to get it written down on paper."

                "I didn't know you wrote."

                For some reason, Squee felt a tingling sensation, the kind you feel when you find an adorable little puppy in a pet store. Seeing Pepito acting like this was definitely something new; the gleam in his strange eyes was captivating. "Well, you haven't been to school too much for the past three years. I write all of the time. "

                "Oh." He averted his gaze.

                The tingling sensation returned. After another long, awkward pause, Squee said, "I kinda missed you …"

                Pepito quickly turned to him. "What? Me?"

                "Yeah. You were hardly around during Junior High."

                "Yeah, I had to work. Father's preparing me for the day of the second damnation and all. It is going to be _fun_. Just you wait." He smiled at his terrified expression. "How was Junior High? No one picked on you … did they?"

                "Erm … yeah, I guess … yeah …" He looked down, embarrassed. 

                He flinched, suddenly feeling a _slight_ tinge of guilt over the fact he was not there to ward off the morons who dared to pick on him. "Sorry, Squee."

                Was the spawn of Satan _apologizing _to him? Throughout the entire time in which he had known him, he had always been a little _afraid _of him … and now, he was being shown with sympathy. Sympathy from the devil.  "W-what?" he asked, wanting to confirm what he heard.

                "I said I'm sorry. I have always wanted to stick up for ya, but I guess I've just been too busy."

                "Stick up for me?"

                "Yeah. If you haven't noticed, you attract a lot of jerks. So … sorry. Yeah …" He scratched his head. 

                Squee lowered his pencil and smiled. 

                Squee nearly fainted from gym. He had not been prepared for the strenuous exercises he was forced to do, especially since it was his first day of school. In the locker room, he shook uncontrollably as he slipped into his regular clothes and breathed in and out frantically. Somehow, Pepito had managed to be his gym class as well and what struck him as more suspicious was that his locker was located right beside his. Unlike Squee, though, he seemed perfectly sedate,  although he was forced to participate in the same obstacles that Squee had to endure. 'Course, his divine powers probably helped him a little bit …

Many other boys were getting dressed up as well, panting heavily but not as loudly as Squee was. "Squee? You okay?" Pepito stared at him, raising an eyebrow. 

"I'm … FINE," he squeaked, throwing his gym outfit into the locker and closing it. 

"Faggot butt!" yelled a bystander. " He can't even run five miles without nearly passing out! What a wiiimp, being all human and stuff! LOOKIT! He's skinny! THIS OFFENDS MEEE! He's a faggot! Are you a _faggot_?" He looked at Squee and laughed noisily.

Pepito glared at the impudent mortal. "Fool! You can't have him. He's mine." He wrapped his arms around Squee and stuck his tongue out.

"AAAAH! FAGGOTS!" 

"I would not do that if I were you," hissed Pepito as the fool was about to grab both of their necks and crush them into their lockers. He glared at him and all of the other boys who were now  witnesses of this scene.  They slowly moved back at the sight of his freakish eyes, now glowing with a demonic luminescence.

The bell signaled the end of gym and everyone scrambled out of the lockeroom, leaving Squee and Pepito behind.

"Well, that didn't take much." Pepito smiled triumphantly and placed his fists upon his hips.

Squee was stricken with alarm, his mouth gaping wide and his eyes practically bulging out of his sockets. "Pepito! Why'd … WHY'D YOU DO THAT?!"

He looked offended. "Do what?! It's true, isn't it?"

"_NO_!" 

"We're friends, right?" Pepito slide his face up to Squee's, their lips barely touching. 

"Y-yeah, but you said it like we were--"

"C'mon, Squee, let's go. We don't want to be late for our next class." Pepito walked off towards the exit, grinning his mischievous grin again.

Squee flinched. This was bound to spread like the plague … eep. Plagues are scary ... 


	2. Chapter Dos

Sympathy From the Devil 

By: Tinque Abelle

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Almighty Thinnest Jhonen Vasquez. X-Box belongs to Microsoft. This fic belongs to me and is not used for profit.

Chapter Two 

"Your parents will not mind, right?"

Squee scoffed and rolled his eyes. "When have they _ever_?" he muttered.

Pepito looked at him in curiosity over the slightly offended look on his face and hopped onto the wretched school bus. A stench of sweat struck him and Squee and the rowdy noisiness of the bus's teenaged, hormone-driven passengers stung their ears. By some lucky twist of fate, they had actually managed to find an empty seat within the crowded bus in which they could share. Squee felt another mysterious tingle as he sat down beside his friend, brushing his leg against his. All of a sudden, the bus went quiet, with only the roar of the engine making noise. He glanced around to find out why everyone stopped talking when he realized that everyone was looking at Pepito and him. 

"It's true, then! You two really are fags," stated a blonde-haired girl. She averted her gaze and Squee followed her eyes, wondering what she was looking at: Pepito had his hand on his. Quickly, Squee withdrew his hands while Pepito made a small pout.

"When will you _ever_ learn to mind your own business, foolish mortals?" 

"No, no, we're," Squee released an anxious chuckle, "we're not … together or .. anything." Before Pepito could retort, he glared at him and reiterated, "We're _not_."

…

"Oh, a visitor?" A tall, lanky-figured woman with short blonde hair greeted Squee with a bright smile.

Pepito nodded. "Yes, mother, Squee and I are going to go upstairs and play with my new X-Box. If you need me for whatever reason, knock first. I repeat, Mother: _knock first_." Squee glanced inquiringly at his impish smirk.

…

Pepito switched the game console on as soon as they entered the bedroom. Posters of various bands adorned the black walls, containers of severed hands and lava lamps of all shapes and sizes sat upon his dresser and tabletops, studded belts and collars were flung out along with apparel of dark colors across the floor. The sinister feeling of the demon child's bedroom prickled the hairs on the back of Squee's neck.  He jumped in surprised as booming heavy metal music crashed through the speakers of a massive boombox. "You don't mind if I play this, do you? I always listen to music while playing games."

The music was terribly discomforting but Squee felt it was best if he did not upset him, so he politely responded, "I don't mind." 

Pretty soon, though, he was beginning to enjoy his stay more and more; the X-Box was _addictive. _Without much to do at his house but write, he was not accustomed to having so much fun.  "Turn right, Squee!" yelled Pepito, shaking wildly with excitement. "Go, go, go, go, go -- _aagh_! Oh well, you almost had it …"

"Two lives left," mumbled Squee as he took on the level yet again, determined to beat it this time.

The music was still blaring but Squee was too drawn into he game to let it bother him. Pepito observed him, studying his every move. Squee didn't even notice when he placed his hand onto his knee. "Are you enjoying this, Squee?"

"You know, for the first time, I actually am!" He continued pressing the buttons o the controller rapidly, biting his lip in resolution. THUD! Suddenly, he was pounced onto the floor, Pepito holding him down with a menacingly seductive look in his eyes. "P-Pepito? What are you --"

"Shhh, don't speak," he whispered, drawing his face up to his. 

"Pepito, stop! Wha --" Squee's eyes flew open as he felt his lips mingled with his. Pepito's lips danced, only quickening the pace as the music blasted louder, his hands sliding up his tight red shirt. For a moment, Squee just stopped struggling, giving into the imp; he felt oddly tickled, being fondled with like this. He finally let out a staggered squeak as he felt a tongue prying into his mouth and shoved him off, wiping his lips. "I don't think we should be doing this, Pepito …"

He smirked, trying to refrain a laugh. "Come now, you k_now_ you liked it."

Even with the loud, clamoring music, Squee could still hear Pepito's breath as he planted kisses onto his neck. Should he stop him? Pretty soon, _someone _was bound to walk into the room … oh why was he even _questioning _this? Of _course _had to stop him … and still, something in the back of his mind prevented him. Slowly, he felt his shirt unraveling and twitched as Pepito kissed his small belly. "Pepito, just … your mom, she's going to --"

"I told Mother to knock, didn't I?" He ran his fingers through the naïve little boy's unruly black hair and kissed him. "I thought we were amigos. Why don't you like me?"

Squee felt his bare belly was being kissed again and then gasped as the imp's sly hands slithered downward …

"Why don't you like me?" he repeated quietly in between kisses.

"I do like you, but -- _squee!_" He leapt up and fastened the button on his jeans immediately. "We're just _friends_!" 

Still on his knees on the floor, Pepito looked up at Squee, his mischievous face fading away. They paused for a moment, staring at each other awkwardly until Pepito turned away and said in a deep, disappointed voice , "Fine. Go ahead and _go_ if you please."

Squee glanced at the X-Box and then back at Pepito, frowning. "Well, I liked it before you … uhm …"

"Squee, just go. I'll see you at school tomorrow." He rose to his feet and headed towards the boombox, intensifying the volume with his back remaining towards Squee.

Squee wanted to say something but quickly decided against it. It was clear that Pepito did not want to continue this discussion and if that was not the case, trying to communicate with him through the insane decibel level of the heavy metal music was impossible.  Hesitantly, he exited the bedroom with a pang of guilt.

With a heavy sigh, Pepito slowly sauntered to the only window, where he watched Squee walking away and heading home. For the first time, he actually felt lonely. He seldom _ever _ felt the pain of loneliness. There was always something to do: driving poor mortals into deep insanity, tormenting souls of the damned,  casting maniac demon squirrels on unsuspecting passerby's -- now he felt an eerie emptiness. He wished he had not dismissed Squee so quickly but he was -- dare he said it -- _hurt_  by his reaction. The window rattled from the crashing sound waves emitting from the boombox. He smiled to himself. Squee couldn't even handle his music. That face of his was _priceless_. "Squee …" he sighed, plopping down onto his plaid-printed bed.

…

"Mom, it's _me, _your _son?_" reminded Squee, rolling his eyes. "I was at my … erm … friend's house for a while."

"Oh. Well, you should have stayed there." His wretched excuse for a mother continued drinking her coffee, sitting at the table, and doing nothing, like she always did. The bags under her eyes were drooping, looking more miserable than usual.

"Are you okay, Mom?" 

"What? Yeah, yeah, sure. Go to your room or something, I don't know." She sipped her coffee again.

Scoffing in disbelief, he retreated up to his room, which retained the childish appearance as it did since he was a child. His backback was flung onto his bed after he pulled out his notebook and pencil. Sitting at his desk, he turned to the page where he had left off during lunch and attempted to finish. Five minutes passed and he grew silently frustrated, as he only managed to add four measly words onto the page. He ran his hand over the area on his neck where Pepito had generously kissed him and then touched his lip, shuddering as the tingling sensation returned. What had happened with Pepito today? He wasn't molested or anything, because he eventually _did_ stop. Besides, what happened were merely kisses and … _lots _of touching …

Titling his head downward, he closed his eyes and wished that he did not have to leave so early; somehow, he wished he was still with Pepito, to see what would have happened if he did remain there -- Squee slapped himself for thinking such things.

Yelling erupted from downstairs. Apparently, his father was home and was berating his mother about something yet again. He tried to finish up _one _sentence was too distracted; the yelling grew louder and louder with each passing second. Without even realizing it, his knees pressed up against his chest and he embraced them, dropping his pencil. Outside, the heavens were darkening. 

"I expect my dinner when I come home, you incompetent bitch! All you do is sit around, taking your pills, watching those goddamned soap operas _all day_!"

Feeling a vague, watery warmth forming in his eyes, he now longed for Pepito. With Pepito, he strangely felt safe.

"Quite boisterous, aren't they?"

Startled, he cautiously pivoted his head around, clamping his knees tightly. The voice was familiar … "S-Shmee?"

"No use in screaming so much. She will not surrender her compulsive addiction to her pills and those revolting soap operas." The tattered teddy bear sat on the boy's bed, staring at him with this ominous, colorless eyes. 

"You haven't spoken in a while …_squeee _… I'm not going crazy am I?"

"Oh you aren't crazy, I make sure of that. I soak up the things that can drive you into madness, don't you remember? And believe it, it is not an easy job."

"I haven't heard form you since I was released from the mental institution I the middle of sixth grade, and throughout seventh and eighth grade, you still didn't talk to me. I thought I was finally sane …" He frowned.

"You _are_ sane, but just barely." Shmee grinned. "Well, through the past two years, you were seeing a therapist and that's been keeping you pretty normal … sooo, I thought I decided to go on an extended vacation!"

"Well, I'm glad you're here now … sorta."

"You are troubled, though. I can feel it in my cottony viens."

"Yeah, I suppose I a-am …"

"Your parents?" He titled his head towards the door where the muffled yelling increased.

"No. Sadly, I've gotten used to it."

"Then what is it?"

He paused, staring at his knees and then dug his face into them. "Pepito …"


	3. Chapter Tres

                **Sympathy From The Devil**

By Tinque Abelle

                Author's Note: I just wanted to say thank you to those who have reviewed. Each comment have encouraged me to continue writing this. Thanks! 

                Disclaimer: All characters are copyrighted by Almgihty Thinnest Jhonen Vasquez. This was not written for profit.

**Chapter Three**

Midnight. By now, practically everyone was asleep in their beds, preparing themselves for another chapter in their mundane, repetitive lives. However, Pepito was fully awake downstairs in the basement of his seemingly humble and quaint little house, prodding a river of souls with the new pitchfork that his father had given to him just last week. Fire crackled in the boundless lair of hell, casting  a crimson, menacing glow onto his apathetic face. 

                "Oh no, no, no, son. You are doing it all wrong," an eerie voice stated from behind. Pepito turned and faced his father, whom was towering over him wearing a long black cloak, his horns glistening with the firelight. Louder, more anguished screams ensued as his father took a hold of the pitchfork and stabbed the river of souls with it. "_This _is how you do it, son.  You must _jab_ the souls, you don't merely poke them. Like this, see?" He repeated the process over and over again, much to the intense inconvenience to the souls.

"Okay, okay, _okay," _hissed Pepito with adolescent impatience. "Father, I get it." He retrieved the pitchfork, glared at his father, and looked into the fiery pits again.

                Satan, or rather Senor Diablo, as he preferred to be called, tilted his head in unease. "Dear boy, is there anything bothering you?"

                "No, nothing at all …"

                "Awful good attempt at a lie, but you really mustn't make it so easy to see through." 

                "_Really_, it's nothing. I would just like to be left alone now, if you don't mind --"

                "Oh, you can tell your--" A sharp, piercing screech echoed throughout the cavernous lair, interrupting the conversation. To  a mortal, the shriek would have rendered them deaf and left their blood cold for eternity. Pepito and his father exchanged puzzled faces. "Someone around here must have been was close to suicide tonight …"

                Although the agonized screams of the suicidals were always music to his ears, Pepito felt a churning pain in his gut about this …

                …

                "Mom?!" Squee was standing in the bright light of the refrigerator  trying to hunt for a carton of milk when suddenly he heard a loud crash that sounded as if came from his parents' bathroom. A loud scream soon followed and Squee dashed up the staircase to his mother's aid. Frantically, he wrung the doorknob, trying to get her to open it. "Mom? _Mom_! Mom, open the door, _please_!" 

                "YOU'D BETTER OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW," erupted a deep voice from behind. "What the _fuck _are you doing?!" Squee flinched as his father rapped on the door violently, and then was pushed aside, slamming into the wall. "Get out here, NOW!"

                Rubbing his shoulder in pain, Squee backed away from him and watched him struggling madly, bellowing his heartless words. He knew he shouldn't, but he could not help but begin to cry.

                The door flung open and Squee gasped at the sight of his mother emerging with her arms drenched in blood and her hair an awful mess. Silvery shards of the bathroom mirror glimmered in her hair, painting her face red. Behind her, the bathroom looked as if it was shredded by a tornado. "M-Mom?"

                "SHUT UP, SQUEE!" His father slapped his mother across the face, forcing her down to the cold bathroom floor onto the sea of shattered mirror pieces.

                "Dad, don't do that!" cried Squee. He attempted to pounce onto him to prevent any more damage but was knocked onto the floor.

                "Both of you think I have it all easy, don't you? I have to go to the same, fucking job every single day and for what? To support a family I never even asked for! And what are _you _doing, trying to kill yourself?!" He slapped his wife again in a fit of rage and turned to Squee. "And YOU! You were an accident! We've tried getting rid of you but the mental institution just spat you back at us! No matter what, you just keep coming back! Will you just go outside and get _kidnapped_ already?! _GOD_!" 

                Tears flooded his eyes as he withdrew into his room and buried himself into his bed, quietly drowning out the distant bickering with his sobs until he finally fell asleep.__

…

The following morning felt so surreal. The warm glow of the sunrise penetrated the bathroom window, shimmering on the shards. Squee was settled in the kitchen, munching on soggy cereal in solitude, staring at the sunrise with a twinge of contempt. The beautiful sun seemed to mock him. Here he was, in pain over the events of last night and the morning was just _gorgeous_. How could the world still carry on with its usual business while he felt so lost and morose? He looked down as his cereal and then glanced at the various newspapers and magazines spread out in disarray on the table. He remembered when his father would just read his newspapers and his mother would be completely drawn into her fashion magazines, ignoring him as he consumed his breakfast. His mother was always envious of the models in the magazines … 

Squee stood up and placed his empty bowl into the sink, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his plain white t-shirt and scanned the house. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound; he wondered if he was the only one left in the house. For a while, he just froze, trying to catch a trace of his parents' voice.

_Nothing. _Slowly, the silence was beginning to send shivers down his spine. True, it was better than hearing screams and fighting again but still, there was something discomforting about this peace …

Looking at the clock, Squee dashed out the door and nearly fainted when he ran into Pepito. "_Squeee! _ What are you doing here?!"

"Picking you up from school, amigo," he replied, smirking. He was wearing a spiked collar today, along with a black shirt with a logo of a band that Squee's never heard of printed on it, tight black pants, and knee-high boots. 

Squee managed a crooked smile, his cheeks reddening lightly. "I'm er … sorry about yesterday …"

"Oh, it's perfectly alright," he lied as they started walking down the sidewalk. "Hey, is anything wrong? You seem … distressed." 

Turning his gaze away, Squee's tainted smile faded. He observed the houses they passed; some people were out, tending to  their little gardens, getting in their cars, or saying goodbye to their kids as they left for school … _God_, how he longed for a  loving family.

                "Squee? Want to talk about it?" he inquired in a tone very much unlike his. 

                Squee frowned and hold back the faintest drops of tears, promising himself not to let Pepito see him cry. 

                "Squee? If this is about last night, I--"

                "No, it's not anything you did …" He avoided making eye contact with him. "It's nothing."

                Unconvinced, Pepito remained silent until they finally arrived at school.

                …

                During classes, Pepito constantly glanced over at Squee and his depressed façade aroused his concern. While he usually enjoyed seeing people in pain, seeing Squee in pain was unbearable. He had never felt like this towards another being, mortal or immortal. He had never felt the intense desire to protect someone, being so adapted to bringing damage onto others. This warm feeling overwhelmed him; all he could do was focus on Squee and no one else. Squee was unlike any of the other, dull, ordinary mortal; he sensed it even from childhood. The unfamiliar pang of guilt struck him as he recollected yesterday. He wondered if he should have slowed down instead of pouncing onto him like that …

                The teacher tapped on his desk to remind him to stay on task but Pepito drove him off with a threatening glare and a low hiss.

                When  the bell signaled the end of class, Pepito approached Squee and dragged him into the nearest boys' restroom while everyone else hurried to their next class.  Shoving him into one of the large stalls at the end of the restroom, Pepito locked the door and pinned him against the wall lightly. "Squee, I know something's wrong. I know you're upset about last night, and I just want to …" He bit his lip and twitched a bit. "Say I'm sorry." He drew up to him, looking into his big, innocent, glassy eyes. "I am. I should've known you/re not into that stuff …"

                Shaking his head, he said, "No, no, it's not that, Pepito, it's just …" He swallowed the lump in his throat and a tiny trickle of warmth crawling down his cheek. "My Mom tried to _kill_ herself last night …"

                His eyes widened and quietly said, "Oh, so that's what it was …"

                "W-what?" He wiped his eyes bashfully.

                "Last night while in the basement, Father and I heard a scream. Father told me someone had come close to suicide. The suicidals are always dumped onto us --"

                Lowering down onto the frigid tiled floor, Squee started to break down into tears uncontrollably. Surprised, Pepito crouched down  and grasped his quivering shoulders. "Squee …" 

Even with his vision blurred with tears, he could see Pepito bringing himself up to his face and felt his warm breath on his cheek. He flinched in surprise as the imp slowly _… licked_ a tear off his face. "Pepito …" He looked into his eyes and felt his heart racing with a strange excitement. 

Pepito picked him up and embraced him; for a while, they didn't say anything. Squee felt not the need to  resist but the longing to stay in his arms; for a minute, it felt like he had nothing in the world to worry about. "You want to get out of here?" he heard a whisper in his ear. Squee looked at Pepito.

"What?"

"You wanna go someplace, just get away from here for a bit?"

"Pepito, we have _school_. We're missing class right now, actually!" Squee stated with a tone of panic.

"Come on, Squee, I want to make you feel better." Before Squee could protest, the bathroom spun and dissolved into fire. When the flames vanished, they were standing in the middle of an empty little ice cream parlor with Squee wearing his usual face of astonish. Apparently, they had teleported or something but he found it amusing that the child of darkness chose a place that was so vividly decorated in pastel hues. 

Pepito cringed. "I know it's disgustingly colorful but they make one _hell _of a hot fudge sundae." He grinned and Squee's responding smile sent a  tingle down his spine. Summoning an employee with the little bell on the counter, they soon sat themselves into a blue-and-white colored booth, ravenously devouring their hot fudge sundaes, unaware of the mess they were making. "Thanks," Squee said as he finished, feeling revitalized.

Smiling, Pepito licked the last remnants of ice cream off of his spoon. "This isn't all I wanted to show you." He gestured towards a shabby, large building with a brightly red-and-orange colored sign that read "Six Sixty-Six" that was located a short distance form where they were.

"What _is_ it?"

"A little dance club I go to sometimes."

Squee blinked. "You go to dance clubs?"

                "Well, yeah, it's pretty fun to send some of the people there ablaze but it does get old after a while. I was hoping you'd come with me."

                "But don't you have to be eighteen or something to get into those things?" he asked nervously.

                "Yeah, but I can get us in." He smirked slyly and licked the vanilla off of his lips.


	4. Chapter Cuatro

                **Sympathy From the Devil**

                By Tinque Abelle

                Disclaimer: All characters belong to Almight Tallest Jhonen Vasquez. I write this for no profit.

                **Chapter Four**

"Aren't youse kids 'upposed to be in school or something? No one under eighteen allowed!"

                Stepping up to the security guard, Pepito scowled at him poisonously, despite the fact that the guard was much taller and larger than him. "Let us _in,_ mortal."

                "Look, _punk_, I can't let kids in. Now scram before you miss History class!" He snorted in laughter.

                "Do you know what I am capable of? Let us in before severity ensues from my hellish wrath! I would _hate _to bring you home to your family in a Ziplock bag. No, actually, I would_ love _to, but I do have other things to attend to."

                Staring nervously at the guard, Squee tugged on Pepito's sleeve and whispered, "Maybe we should just go ..."

                "I doubt you can make me -- AAAGH!!!" The guard's blemished, hairy skin melted off of his bones, leaving his skeletal frame withering onto the ground. Stricken with horror, Squee stared at the pile of dust, backing away cautiously. 

                Rolling his eyes, Pepito clutched his hand and dragged him through the doors, entering a very plain and small white room. "Good thing no one was around to see that. I cannot see how you can live with these idiotic beings, Squee."

                "I don't think that was very nice ..."

                The imp paused in front of another set of doors. "Well, he was asking for it! That's why you get picked on, Squee. You've gotta _stand up_ to people sometimes." He sighed, taking note of his upset expression. "Okay, Squee, I won't do that again ... around you, that is." He smiled.

                "Do you think I'm a wimp? Tell me honestly."

                "Well, you -- okay, you can be just a little but that's okay! I said I'd protect you, didn't I?" He placed a hand on his shoulder and gave his cheek a quick kiss that caught him by surprise. "I might not be there for you sometimes, though."

                Squee nodded in comprehension. "Sorry for being like this, it's just ... my Mom ..."

                "We came here to have fun, Squee! You like dancing?" Finally, they passed in through the second set of doors and Squee's jaw dropped in awe of the brilliant, multi-colored lights rapidly flashing on and off, highlighting the swarm of people as they danced to the fast, upbeat music. Fighting through the raucous crowd, they reached a bar that stretched out all the way to the other end of the building. Behind the bar were shelves of assorted beverages, illuminated by a black light. "You think this crowd is bad? You should see it at night." He spotted a nearby bartender. "Two beers over here!"

                Squee blinked. "I don't drink ..."

                "Oh. Oh yeah, er ... is a _root_ beer okay, then? Ah, I'll get one, too. Make that two root beers."

                Rolling his eyes, the bartender muttered, "Pffft, damn kids."

                Pepito raised a finger to ignite him but stopped, looking at Squee shaking his head. "You're lucky I like you, amigo." Two foaming mugs of root beer slid over to them. They both took a big gulp and let out a sigh, the taste lingering on their tongues. The flashing lights began to alter colors as another song replaced the current one, almost making Pepito choke on his drink; he leapt from the stool with Squee's hand. "Come on, Squee! No way are we going to sit around during _this _song!"

                "Why don't you go on ahead?" Squee suggested with a nervous smile, trying to wriggle his hand out of Pepito's clutch without much success.

                "What? Why?"

                "I don't really know how to dance ..."

                "Aw, I'll teach you! Let us dance now," he said, dragging him onto the teeming dance floor. 

                The music was a hybrid of two genres, having the speed of rap and the intensity of heavy metal. Staring perplexedly, Squee's legs tingled as the imp's body seemed to flow with the rhythm, moving aggressively, fluidly, and mysteriously seductively all at the same time. For a moment, he was completely mesmerized by him, his mouth gaping until he realized that Pepito was watching him. Slowly, he began to mimic his moves, swaying his hips awkwardly and gradually bringing in the rest of his body into the tempo. He squeaked as the imp placed a hand on his rear, bringing his body up to his, maintaining his moves. Pepito stared into Squee's eyes slyly and licked his lips as he noticed how quickly he was actually picking this up. Squee stared back, his excitement heightening as he felt his body moving against his. The rush of adrenaline between the two of them only built up as the music grew louder. Impressed, Pepito grinned; it was like there had always been a mischievous, sexy demon residing in the boy and now it was finally awakening. 

                Squee hung his arms over the imp's shoulders and looked deeply into his bicolored eyes with the music still conducting his body. Pepito pulled in even closer to him to the point where they could both feel each other's heart beating within their chests and finally kissed the dark-haired boy. Their surroundings seemed to slow down, the music only a whisper ... he loved the soft, tender warmth of his lips, the same sugary flavor he tasted yesterday.

 Squee just froze, shifting not a single muscle. He knew he should have shoved him away but he somehow did not want to. He knew he should have returned the kiss but he was too nervous to make a move. When Pepito's lips parted from his, a new song had started, sending them weaving through the crowd to return to the bar. He was too tense to utter a word or even to _look_ at him.

"See? You are a natural," Pepito said, cooling himself down with a gulp of rootbeer.

"I am?" Squee beamed with his typical childlike innocence, making Pepito laugh as he contemplated the seemingly split personalities that he seemed to bearbetween the dancefloor and the rest of the world.

"You are," he responded, running his hand through his messy black hair and sighed. "You are unlike anyone else I've ever met, Squee. I forget that you are part of the human species sometimes; they are so inferior compared to you."

"Well, uhm ... thanks," Squee said, scratching his head bashfully.

"I mean it, Squee."

Squee felt himself blush and glanced around. "You know where the restroom is?"

Pointing towards the direction, he watched Squee leave and sipped his root beer.

"Well, he's pretty cute," said a feminine voice from behind.

Spinning around, Pepito faced a chocolate-skinned girl with spiked, magenta hair, wearing a short black dress and pink, striped stockings. "Jez?" he gasped.

"Yupyup! That's me!"

Pepito wiped a drop of root beer from his mouth. "Where have you been? Father's been wondering about your absence."

"Oh, I've just been here, really. Hell's been ... hell."

"Look, when you sell your soul, you make a irreversible agreement to remain in his service for _all_ eternity. You can't just get up and go!"

"Well, I don't like it there!" She crossed her arms and pouted.

"You shouldn't have sold your soul for those shoes then! I mean, look! You don't even wear them anymore!"

"Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Pepito just sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes.

"So who's the cutie you're with?"

"Watch it, Jez. His name is Squee and he's all mine. If you even _think_ about laying a finger on him, you will have to suffer."

She stepped back and raised her eyebrow. "Alright, alright, no touchy-touchy, _jeez._ Have you nailed him yet?" Jez grinned.

"You know, this is strange, but _no, _I haven't ..."

"Wow. Why not?"

"I don't know ... he doesn't seem to be into that sort of stuff. I've tried."

"What's the point, then?! You usually get them into bed the first night you meet 'em!"

"Yeah, then they end up in a fiery pit the next morning." He snickered a bit at the memories. "But Squee's different. As bizarre and horribly clichéd as this sounds, I think I actually _like_ him."

"Ah, so you're in -- what's it called? Love, huh?"

Pepito flinched at the sound of the word. "What? _Me_? No, that is _highly_ improbable."

"Sure sounds like it. And you call yourself the son of Satan. For shame, Pepito, for _shame_."

"Hey! I am _not _in love! Definitely not in love, alright? So I like him -- so what? _And _I'll have you know that Father believes I am almost ready to bring the world to ruins! We're doing it on my eighteenth birthday." 

"So you're not in love, huh? How do you know if you're not in love if you've never been? I've been with a lot of people; I know people who've been with a lot of people -- I know when people are in love or not and trust me, I am seldom ever incorrect." She smiled at Pepito's speechless reaction. "I suppose I should get back to your father, though, before I get in any more trouble, so ... taa-taa, Pepito!" Without another word, she suddenly vanished, leaving a ring of smoke.

Squee finally emerged from the crowd and sat down on his stool, looking weary. "Sorry about that ... had to fight the _crowd_ to get here. Pepito? Pepito, what's wrong?"

"What? Oh! Oh, nothing," he answered, smiling. He felt a sense of completeness in him, like the feeling you get when you connect the final piece to a jigsaw puzzle, only amplified. Was it true? Was he ... in _love?_

...

Later in the afternoon, Pepito escorted Squee home and they talked and laughed throughout the way. Squee stopped before the front door of his house and turned around. "Thanks, Pepito ... I really needed that."

"No, the pleasure was all _mine_. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" He leaned in to steal another kiss but came to a halt when he felt a finger press up to his lips.

"Not here. My parents might be around. I'll see you tomorrow, though."

He nodded, his smile still intact. "Adios, then!" he said, walking down the sidewalk with his hands tucked into his pockets.

After watching him disappear, Squee entered his house, feeling exhilarated, his heart beating rapidly. He sauntered up the stairs and into his bedroom, feeling as if he were walking on air, and collapsed onto the bed, looking outside. The sunset had never looked so beautiful to him.


	5. Chapter Cinco

                **Sympathy From The Devil**

By Tinque Abelle

                Author's Note: Again, I'd like to thank every single one of those who have read and reviewed. Sorry this chapter took a bit of a while; I am on the verge of writer's block. Meep! Well, hope you enjoy this one and do keep reviewing and tell me what you think. ^_^!

                Disclaimer: All characters except Jez are copyrighted by Almighty Thinnest Jhonen Vasquez. Jez is mine. I do not write this for profit. Oi, these disclaimers are a pain to write over and over again. ::faints::

**Chapter Five**

Sitting in his dimly lit room and listening to music, Pepito examined the little flickering flame from his lighter, reflecting on the fun he had at the "Six Sixty-Six" dance club with Squee and Jez's words. _Was _he in love with Squee? He constantly licked his lips, trying to taste the last few traces of Squee's soft lips. He wanted to express the intensity he felt when he was around him by doing so much more with him but he also wanted to slow down for him.  The little flame wavered as he sighed.

                His father entered through the opened door, glancing around. "Pepito, do you know where I left my trident? I could have sworn I left it in the kitchen but it's not there."

                Wearing an emotionless expression, Pepito merely shook his head.

                "Ah. So, how was school today?"

                Pepito shrugged.

                "Dinner starts in ten minutes. We're having meatloaf!"

                "Are you going to be there?"

                "… Well, _no_ ..."

                He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Of _course_ ..."

                "You know how busy work can be--"

                "_Hardly_ a worthy excuse."

                Pepito flinched, seeing the scarlet glow in his father's eyes looking down down him as he loomed up and spoke in a menacingly deep voice, "You may be my son, Pepito, but you are still my subordinate. I will _not_ tolerate any impudence."

                Reluctantly, Pepito bowed his head, nodded, and watched as his father exited the bedroom. He rushed to the door and slammed it.

                ...

                Squee felt his heartbeats deepening when heard footsteps infiltrating the house as he lied in bed, trying to sleep. Slowly, he carefully crept out of his room and down the stairs, trying his best to avoid making a sound. The light from his father's computer room suddenly turned on. "D-Dad?" he whispered. Quietly, he skulked down the staircase and peeked into the room, in utter relief that it was only his father, facing the computer as usual with his keys lying beside the keyboard. "Where were you?" He walked up to him nervously. "Where's Mom?"

                "I had to take your mother to the emergency room and then they sent her to the mental institution. She's gonna stay there for a while. Now just go back to sleep so I can at least live under the delusion that I do not have a child." He did not even glimpse at Squee; he just kept staring at the screen,  listening to the continuous clacking of the keyboard. 

                With his jaw dropping in disbelief, he returned into the comforting embrace of his bed and hugged his knees under the blankets. His mother was at the mental institution? He twitched, remembering all of the horrible things he had been through during his time there. There, he was forced to stay in a small padded room, strapped down in a straightjacket. He remembered hitting his head against the walls repeatedly as he felt himself drowning into a quiet insanity from utter boredom. The only light you received was from one little bulb and it was a sickly yellowish green color that caused a relentless dizziness. At night, he would be kept awake by incessant screams from down the hallway, constantly haunted by the pained cries. Clutching onto his pillow, he hoped that his mother would be okay …

                …

                During the following days, he spent every afternoon at Pepito's house, trying to accomplish homework but they were always getting sidetracked by the X-Box or television. During lunch, Squee's attention was always diverted onto Pepito when he was trying to complete his story. Whenever Squee was picked on, Pepito would defend him. On Friday night, they attended the "Six Sixty-Six" dance club again and unlike their previous visit, a live band was providing the music and the dancefloor was almost overflowing with adolescents; they were fortunate enough to find a spot for themselves. Squee found himself growing more comfortable with dancing and they had reached such a stimulating summit that the two of them rushed into a bathroom stall and began making out feverishly. One unfortunate employee had his face burned off when he walked into the stall, cutting their little session short. "Okay, _okay_, sorry; I forgot," Pepito said as they exited the bathroom.

                Sitting on the steps of his porch on a cloudy Saturday noon, Squee was laboring over his notebook, completely transfixed in writing the story he had been working on for the past week. The skies were colorless and it looked like it was definitely about to rain. Squee loved a light rain. It always seemed to give him inspiration for his stories; the steady pitter-patter of the raindrops was so soothing. He hesitated as a shadow emerge onto his page and looked up, finding Pepito wearing a long, jet black trenchcoat and looking down at him with a charcoal online around his eyes . "Hi, Pepito ... what's that on your eyes?" He tilted his head.

                "Eyeliner," Pepito answered, sitting himself beside him and looking over his shoulder. "What're you writing?"

                Abruptly, he closed the notebook and said not another word. "Nothing."

                "Come now, amigo, we hide no secrets from each other." He smiled and kissed his cheek.

                Squee felt himself blush. "It's just a story. My writing's horrible; you probably wouldn't want to read it ..."

                "How could it be horrible? Can I read it?" He looked at Squee shaking his head shyly and decided not to bother him about it any longer. "Well, Mom and I are about to go grocery shopping. Wanna come? It gets so boring when you're all alone."

                "Uhm ... sure! Yeah, hold on, let me just put this away," he said with a mixture of surprise and eagerness in his voice. He stuffed his notebook into a small bag that lied behind him, which also carried his tattered old teddy bear, Shmee. Pepito glanced curiously at the little bear and shrugged to himself as Squee tossed the bag into his house and faced him, all ready to go.  They held hands briefly until a shiny, crimson car pulled up. 

                ...

                While Pepito's mother went into the store to pick up the food, the two boys waited outside against the entrance, talking. Squee could not help but glance or stare at his dark, outlined eyes, finding them eerie but hauntingly attractive. "Looks like it's about to rain later," Pepito remarked, looking up at the thick, silvery clouds. He looked around the nearly deserted parking lot and noticed a messy line of shopping carts. He smirked. "I have an idea."

                Curiously raising an eyebrow, Squee followed him. "What are you doing?" he asked, seeing Pepito taking one of the carts from the row. 

                "Here, just get into the cart." 

                Squee looked at the little toddler's seat in puzzlement. "Erm ... it's a little small, don't you think?" 

                "No, no, I mean right here!" He pointed at the gaping portion of the cart in which food was to be stored. 

                "What's the point in--"

                "Aww, come on, it'll be fun!"

                Squee peered at him in uncertainty and then awkwardly climbed in the cart, scrunching himself up to fit into it. "Okay, Squee, you'd better hold on!" the imp exclaimed, grinning mischievously. Squee felt his body shooting back as Pepito rushed the cart through the parking lot with an unnaturally lunatic speed, the scenery turning into blur. The sudden rush delivered a euphoric jolt down Squee's back; he wanted to stop and yet he wanted to go even faster. He almost had a heart attack when Pepito almost crashed the cart into a car but quickly turned, barely touching it. The cart skidded to a stop and Pepito laughed aloud at his unruly hair and shaken expression. "Are you okay?"

                "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," Squee stammered, laughing a little at himself as he climbed out of the cart. He was brought into Pepito's arms and he hugged him back.

                "Look over there," Pepito whispered, lightly jerking his head to the side. Squee quickly glanced towards the direction and found a group of four teenaged boys, gawking at them. "Why don't we give them a little show?" He winked and traced his tongue up his face.

                Squee smiled and gave a subtle nod, kissing Pepito's neck tenderly. The two gave a light snicker as they heard groans coming from their spectators. Stroking his hair, the imp's lips met Squee's again and they persisted until their little audience finally left in utter repulsion. Both of them broke into a raucous laughter, falling onto their bottoms in the middle of the sparking lot. "Offending people is always so much fun," said Pepito, sniggering. 

                ...

                The skies had finally poured with rain when they arrived at Pepito's house. After helping Pepito's mother organizing and putting away the grocery, the boys retreated into their rooms, locking the door. The music was not on, which was atypical of the demon boy, because he always had his heavy metal crashing through his room but instead, the sound of rain filled the silence. Squee was sitting on his bed, trembling just a little bit in the shadowy room lit only by a few lava lamps and the dim, white light from the window. 

                "Is this your first time?" whispered Pepito as he removed his trenchcoat and sat on the bed, facing Squee.

                "Y-yeah, it is," he stammered, looking into Pepito's eyes.

                "Don't be so nervous, amigo. It's _always_ awkward the first time, but at least I'm here, right?" He smiled.

                Squee nodded, still softly trembling. 

                "Close your eyes and try not to move too much. I'll be gentle."

                Closing his eyes, Squee slightly twitched at the touch of the eyeliner pencil running delicately along his eyelids. This was his first time wearing makeup, after all. He hoped he wouldn't look too hideous ...

                "Don't move, don't move," Pepito whispered, applying the eyeliner onto the other eye carefully, striving for precision. "Okay ... open them."

                Slowly, Squee opened his eyes and gasped at his reflection in a handheld mirror before him. For a moment, he didn't believe he was looking at himself; he observed how different he looked with the black eyeliner around his eyes and for the first time in a while, he really loved how he looked.

                "_Muy caliente_," Pepito remarked, putting down the mirror and gazing at him in quiet awe, licking his lips. 

                "Do I look okay?"

                "Okay? Are you kidding? You look absolutely _sexy!"_

A warmth lit up Squee's cheeks; he had never been given such a flattering compliment. The two of them sat there, just gazing at each other until a knock on the door startled them. "Pepito? Your father said he's not going to be home tonight but if your friend wants to, he can stay for dinner!"

                Looking down at his knees, Pepito muttered, "_Carajo. _Okay, Mother."

                Footsteps descended down the stairs and Squee turned to Pepito. "What's the matter, Pepito?"

                "Father is _always_ away at work. He's never around; I'm beginning to think he's forgotten he even has a son." Pepito faced the window with an frustrated face.

                "I know how_ that _is ..." Squee looked down and held Pepito's hand.

                "It gets so terribly boring here sometimes. _So _boring that my usual routines of torturing the souls of the damned can't even quench it.  At least you're here with me, Squee. I don't know what I'd do if you weren't." They both looked at each other without knowing what to say yet again. The drumming of the rain upon the window grew louder and vague sounds of thunder rung through the clouds. 

                "Pepito ...?"

                "Yes?" He looked at him questionably.

                Squee paused in apprehension. "I think I ..."

                Pepito blinked.

                "I think I love you," he admitted in a soft tone, pressing his lips gently against his.

                The thunder become faintly louder; Pepito felt a tickling commotion in the back of his neck. Those words echoed in his ears like a melody. "I love you too," he admitted, pinning his onto the pillow and licking his lips seductively before engaging in liplock again. Running their hands up each other's shirts to fondle their beloved's soft flesh, they began to duel with their tongues wildly, ignoring the sudden loud crash of thunder.  Pepito caught Squee's lips with his teeth and shuddered in surprise as he felt the zipper of his pants undo. "Squee, you little devil."

                ...

                The thunder had died down but the skies were beginning to darken. Rain still rattled the window, scrambling the faded light that Pepito and Squee's faces bathed in. They lied beneath the plaid-printed blankets, their eyeliner smeared,  their bare bodies tangled with each other, and their breaths heavy. Pepito grasped Squee's hand and kissed it. "Be with me forever."

                Squee looked at their hands and smiled. "Always." 

                There was a knock on the door, causing both of them to leap up in panic. "Dinner's in five minutes, boys!"

                Pepito and Squee looked at each other and snickered.


	6. Chapter Seis

**                Sympathy From The Devil**

By: Tinque Abelle

                Author's Note: Alas, the end. I had trouble writing this one because writer's block is _really _getting to me now. My writing juices are no more. I have to be refueled ... by ... something. And once again, thanks for your patience and time and reviews. ;) _Each_ of you have compelled me to finish this fanfic. This would be my SECOND completed multi-chaptered piece of writing. Yeah. Pretty sad. But I finished and that's good. Very good. Enjoy, loves.

                Disclaimer: Again, all belongs to Almighty Thinnest Jhonen Vasquez 'cept Jez, whom is mine, and I do not write this for profit. 

**                Chapter 6**

                Squee nearly fainted, running into his father when he arrived back home. His father stood over him, scowling at his son, and holding a stack of his wife's fashion magazines and his jingling car keys in the other hand. 

                "Where're you going?"

                "I'm going to the mental institution to drop these off for your mother. "

                "Can I come?"

                He glared at him and then cringed. "Fine. Get in the car."

                Quickly, Squee retrieved the bag that he left beside the front door before his father closed it, almost clamping onto his arm. On the way there, Squee noticed in the mirror that his father was constantly glancing at him, his face distorted in disgust. He was quite used to be looked upon with contempt but not like this. His father's grimace made Squee so nervous that he decided to observe the passing scenery instead. No moon or stars tonight. Instead, he had to watch old, decrepit buildings, scattered litter, and wandering hobos plodding alongside the street. With a twinge of worry in his gut, Squee silently prayed that his mother was alright ...

                ...

                On the outside, the building looked very sanitary and peaceful but Squee knew better. A glum-faced lady appointed Squee and his father to their destination and they strolled down the halls, looking for the correct room. Biting his lip, he glanced into each of the open rooms they passed. Some people were beating up  their pillows, some people were smiling, staring at the ceiling as they spun around, some people gnawed on the beds in a rabid, squirrel-like manner. He shuddered when they passed through the cafeteria, seeing the bowls of chunky stew on the tables. _Try the stew ... eez deelishus ... _He cringed as he remembered his crazy neighbor-man, Nny, hissed these words through the window one night. Some people stared at the food, crying or jeering at it. Those were the anorexics. Their sickly, bony bodies gave him countless nightmares. One girl had killed herself after being forced to eat. Even though he didn't know her, that event made him cry for weeks. 

                As they continued walking, Squee waved nervously at a recognized face: his doctor, Mr. Canby, who took care of him during his stay here. "Hi, Todd!" he greeted, with a zealous smile. "How do you like sanity so far?"

                Squee did not answer but just continued walking down the hall, annoyed. Finally, they reached the room and went inside; Squee's eyes widened, seeing his mother heavily strapped down to a bed with all sorts of medical monstrosities surrounding her. She was staring directly into the ill-colored light above her head, not seeming to notice anyone came in. Up and down her arms were a plethora of red gashes and scratches. "Mom?" He stepped up to her. "_Mom_?"

                He twitched in disturbance at her dead expression as she gradually turned to face him, her face tainted by little red cuts. "Squee?" she asked in a nearly inaudible voice.

                His heart skipped; this was one of the only times she had ever remembered his name. "Mom, a-are you okay?"

                "How can I be?"

                Squee swallowed the lump in his throat. 

                "How can I be when you're here?" She averted her gaze to stare into the light again, continuing her slow, monotonous tone of voice. "You just don't understand, Squee. You just don't understand how miserable life's been ever since you were born. I have always wanted to become a designer ... some sort of famous designer ... instead, I am trapped in the same old house everyday with nothing to do, having to raise a child I've _never_ planned on having with a husband who hates me. My pills were my only friends and they don't even work anymore. Why do they keep me here if I have no reason to live?" Feebly, she tried to budge but the restraints were too tight. "My mother told me not to get an abortion; God, how I wish I didn't listen to her." She looked at Squee again. "Why can't you just disappear, Squee? Just _please_ go away ..."

                Tears blurred the image of his mother. Squee faced a different direction, not knowing whether to feel sympathy for his mother's pain or to feel angered by her words. Nonetheless, he felt wounded, although his parents have been saying this sort of stuff since he was a toddler. How he wished to be safe in the comfort of Pepito's arms ... 

                He licked a tear as it rolled down onto his lip and looked over at his father, who was still wearing the disgusted face he had in the car.

                ...

                "What's wrong, Dad?" he finally asked as they returned home. His eyes were burning red from crying throughout the journey.

                His father stepped through the doorway but gestured Squee to stop from entering the house. "No fags will be living under my roof."

                Squee's eyes flung open and he nearly dropped his bag.

                "Oh, I know about you and your little _friend, _Squee. You and you friend, what's-his-name ..."

                "P-P-Pepito?" 

                "Yeah, _him_. I saw him kissing you on the cheek on the porch today. Fucking disgusting. Then you two _held hands_."

                Beads of sweat dripped down his face. He couldn't find a way out of this one ...

                "Are you a _faggot_?"

                The tears came back, stinging harder than ever. "Dad, I--"

                "I can't believe you're a fucking fag! Of all the sick, disgusting things -- that's not the way we raised you. I forbid you to see him again!"

                "_Raised me_?! You've sent me to bed _starving, _you've dumped me off at a mental institute, you don't even remember I _exist_ sometimes! And there is _no _ way you can stop me from seeing him again." 

                "Well, if it's so bad here, fucking LEAVE already, you faggot!"

                "Fine, I will! I've never liked living here, anyway!" He walked away, hearing the door slam behind him. Sighing, he noticed that the moon was finally beginning to shine. He could not believe he had done what he had just done. Inside, he felt like a bird that had finally been freed out of its cage, but still, there was an overwhelming pang of guilt ...

                ...

                Pepito sat on the peak of a sky-scraping mountain of skulls, looking down upon the filthy, crowded streets of hell. People ceaselessly running about, driven by a savage crave to attain the hottest clothes or cars or accessory to maintain their social status. Some were carelessly beating others and rapes were not uncommon on the streets. Here, there was no law. People only strove to be "cool", whatever that was. If you were not capable to keep up with the rest of the people, you were forever ridiculed, trapped in your personal hell, trapped in ceaseless desire. Latest fashions changed so quickly that most of the clothing were worn only once, if worn at all. Everyone felt the need to look good. After all, the Eye was watching them. Pepito looked up at the gleaming eye in the sky. This was hell.

                Pepito laughed a bit as he saw a girl smashing her face against a wall, screaming about her new contact lenses. He shook his head. "Will they ever learn?" He looked over to a gigantic building and noticed a dark-skinned girl in raggedy overalls cleaning the large windows agitatedly high on a raised platform. Chuckling a bit, Pepito vanished in a flurry of flame and reappeared beside her, scaring her half to death. She stood, clutching her chest, wide-eyed at him, who was howling with laughter.

                "Pepito! What are you doing here?!"

                "_Well_, I practically run this place. What are _you _doing here?" He looked over the edge of the platform and watched cars and people scurrying below like ants.

                ""Your _father's _making me clean up the city and look what he's made me wear! Overalls! _Who wears overalls_?!" She growled in frustration and continued to clean he windows, trying to exterminate a smudge. "I'm going to lose my friends if they see me in these clothes!"

                "Well, you shouldn't have left, Jez," Pepito said, sitting down and continuing to view the sights under his dangling feet. 

                "Oh, it wouldn't have made any difference anyway. It feels like I'm always in hell, no matter where I go. Ugh." A silent hesitation as Jez finished wiping the glass. Sighing, Jez wiped the sweat of her brow and glanced over to Pepito. "So, how're you and loverboy?" 

                Not tearing his eyes away from the bustle of the city, he softly smiled as he remembered his day with Squee and the warmth of his flesh against his. Jez pulled on the ropes that supported the platform, lowering it down gradually. 

                "Ah, so you finally nailed him, hm?" She asked, noticing the enthralled smile on his face.

                Pepito twitched. "Well, I wouldn't use the term 'nailed'; I told you, this is different. It's ... erm ... you know the word ..."

                "Erm ... hold on, I know it ... love, right?"

"Yeah, erm ... love." He chuckled nervously. 

They slowly sank back down to the city. "I envy you," Jez finally confessed. "I'll never be able to know what it's like."

Pepito widened his eyes, imagining what it would be like to be incapable of experiencing what he felt with Squee.  When the platform finally reached the ground, both of them removed themselves from it and started heading down the street. Jez wiped her forehead with her sleeve again and sighed, partially out of exhaustion and partially from noticing the dismayed looks she seemed to be attracting from various passerbys. She grunted. "Damn overalls. Okay, now I have to go to the mall and ... clean up." 

                "You know ... maybe you could take a little break or something."

                "A break? Your father'd kill me."

                "Well, I'm giving you permission ... I run this place too, you know. Erm. Sort of. Well, he'll understand. Now ... go ... get a bagel or something."

                Staring at him with glassy eyes, Jez beamed. "Thank you, thank you ,thank you!"

                Pepito shrugged and stifled a smile. "Be back at the mall, though, in an hour lest you want to suffer consequences. _Horrible_ consequences." He watched her disappear into the crowded streets and spun around to wander the opposite direction but gasped, finding his father towering over him. 

                "I saw that," he said in a stoic tone. "You know you are not permitted to dismiss the eternally damned. "

                Eyelid twitching, Pepito continued walking down the street, heading towards the mountain of skulls he was previously nestled upon with his hands in the pockets of his black trenchcoat and his eyes to his feet.  He could hear his father following behind him.

                "Pepito ... I apologize for my ... continuous absence. I mean it. It pains me to imagine you and your mother at the dinner table without me. And although I am still preoccupied with my work now, I want you to know that I _haven't_ forgotten you. I still remember that we still have a world to demolish on your eighteenth birthday!" He smiled but still had a solemn look in his eyes. 

                "Well ... it would be pleasant if you were around more but I suppose your apology will suffice." He smirked and gave his father the first genuine embrace he had ever given him in years.

                "So ... who is this 'loverboy' whom Jez was speaking of?"

                Pepito flinched and looked away shyly. 

                "Is it that mortal friend of yours? Squee?"

                "Y-yeah ..." Tensely, Pepito scratched his head and continued looked away at random stores.

                "You know, without your mother, I would have never become the successful lord of the underworld as I am now. Most would expect the Prince of Darkness not to be capable of falling in love but it happens. Impossible to avoid, you know."

                "You're _okay _with this?"

                "Of course! And just think of the irony when the world realized they've been doomed by a homosexual demon!" He grinned. "People always believe homosexuality is something _I _created. I only created lust for those pathetic mortals. I could not care less about their actual love lives." Suddenly, his dark, menacing form morphed into a busty cheerleader with a wide, cheery smile on her face, waving around yellow pompoms. "So, like, go for it, Pepito!"

                Pepito flinched in repulsion. "_Must_ you do that, Father?"

                The sound of a doorbell echoed through the sky. "Who could it be at _this _hour?" The two vanished in a flicker of a flame, singeing some of the bystanders and reappeared in their picturesque living room. Opening the door, Pepito found Squee standing on his porch, holding a bag and straining a smile with glassy eyes.

                ...

                "... although the two were from completely different worlds, they were bound by destiny and lived happily ever after."

                "See? That wasn't so bad," Pepito said, running his fingers through Squee's hair. "Your story was beautiful."

                Smiling, Squee stared at the sunrise before their eyes. They sat on the crown of an escalated hill with their backs against a "No parking" sign under a scrawny, barren tree and watched the twinkling lights of the city below. The height did not strike fear into him for once; he felt an unusual ecstasy, being up here with Pepito by his side. As he unzipped his bag to put away his notebook, his tattered old teddy bear fell out onto the ground and hit Pepito's boot. 

                "Why do you carry that around?" the imp asked, raising an eyebrow.

                "Oh ..." Squee's cheek reddened. "Erm ... that's Shmee. Old friend of mine."

                "Yeah, but why do you carry him around now? Aren't you a little old for that?"

                "This is going to sound _insane _but I think he _talks_ to me. He's been my only friend, besides you, of course, throughout my life, really ..." He chuckled apprehensively, hoping this would not sound too crazy and drive Pepito away.

                "How peculiar ... we usually keep records of the objects we possess." He shrugged. "Oh well ..."

 A familiar tickle slithered down his spine as he felt Pepito clutching his hand.

                "So I guess you're staying with us now, huh?"

                "Yeah. Dad threw me out of the house. You wanna come with me later while I drop off a letter to my mom at the mental institute?"

                "Sure, but I don't know why you're going to do that, after what she said to you."

                "Well, she's still my mother, Pepito."

                "What about your father?" Squee stared at the sunset and sighed, saying nothing. "Why don't we drop by your house and make out on his lawn or something?" Pepito snickered. Watching Squee laugh, he smiled and shifted up to him, lying his head on his shoulder. "Te amo, amigo."

                Stroking the imp's shoulder, Squee kissed his forehead gently. "I love you too."

                "But if we ever get married, _you're _going in the dress."


End file.
